


Jagged Edges

by CaptainErica



Category: Big Bang (Band), K-pop
Genre: M/M, Soulmates, demon!jiyong, honestly i should stop beating a dead horse at this point but i love demongd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8591653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainErica/pseuds/CaptainErica
Summary: The pieces of his soul had been painstakingly put back together: but that didn't mean they'd been put back together well, or even correctly.Jiyong is immaculate in that he's not truly flesh and blood and bone; and he did it to himself, and he did it on his own.





	

Jiyong has been described in many ways by many different people over the last few hundreds of years since he became a demon,but not in any way that you wouldn’t expect. He’s classy, in the sense that he  _ looks _ classy. He’s tailored suits and the latest trends. He’s new hairstyles to match his mood. He’s expensive jewelry dripping from his hands and around his neck.

Too bad he’s just his black, twisted soul personified. Too bad he’s an actual, honest-to- _ god _ demon. He smirks at himself in the mirror of the hotel restroom he’s currently occupying. Today’s suit is black, the jacket tight-fitting but not really button-able with the soft grey cardigan he’s got buttoned up underneath; low cut with his white shirt and thin black tie tucked beneath it. He likes this one, gives him the look he’s going for. He runs his fingers through his hair, gazing at it critically as he does so, before he straightens himself out again, pulling at the edges of his jacket before heading out into the hotel lobby.

It’s busy at this time of day, and that’s perfect. It’s perfect because it gives him the chance to do the kind of damage he enjoys the most; quick and long-lasting. He can’t focus on just one person with this much going on, but he  _ can _ cause quite a lot of mayhem with very little effort.

A flick of his wrist has the honeymooning couple nearest him ready for a fight that could end their very short relationship. The right kind of smile, directed at the right kind of guy, has a breakdown starting that will hugely inconvenience the entire lobby for at least an hour. He trips someone as he walks past, sends the wrong luggage up to room 326, and switches keys on a couple of people and that’s going to end  _ badly _ and he can’t  _ wait _ to hear about it.

These are small things, small things that put a smile on his face and keep him moving through the mass of people as the ghost he prefers to be thought of as. He likes being looked at, sure, but he works behind the scenes and this kind of chaos spirals out in unexpected ways that always benefit his numbers.

Jiyong has some of the very  _ best _ numbers. He’s good with souls; cajoling them to the dark side is an artform that he’s most practiced in. He’s  _ great _ at his job.

He’s made it to the opposite side of the lobby, eyes lingering on different people, trying to decide who to focus on. There’s a group of people coming in, and this draws his attention. He moves closer, slow and like he’s meant to be walking toward them, and that’s when he sees him. That’s when his eyes land on the man in the center. There were two others with him, both taller by at least a little but, but they barely mattered.

The man in the center was broad-shouldered and well-dressed. The way they were surrounded led Jiyong to believe that they were famous in some way; important. He could work with that.

He finds them later. They’re at the hotel bar and it’s clearly because it’s easier for them to get drinks without being bothered there, and not because the drinks are any type of quality. Jiyong sits down a little ways away from them at the bar, making sure his best angles are presented, and orders something expensive and just a little over the top. It adds to his allure; will show them, especially the youngest one, that he’s on their playing field, if not higher up than them.

His object of interest, of course, is the oldest one. He can tell he’s the oldest by the way the other two had flanked him in the lobby earlier, and by the way he treats them both; soft and affectionate, but with an undercurrent of understanding that  _ he’s _ in charge. Jiyong likes that. Likes the easy intimacy of it. Likes the subtle steel of the power there. 

He looks at them from the corner of his eye, sipping his poorly mixed drink and trying to decide how he’s going to approach this. He’s most interested in the oldest, but he’s going to keep that to the side; wait that one out. The middle one, who is also currently sitting in the middle of them, won’t fall for his charms or his looks and will probably be the hardest to persuade.

The youngest one, however…

He’s sitting closest to Jiyong, his hair’s been bleached and dyed to an unnatural silvery white color and it works for him. He’s in a simple suit, well-cut and clearly there was thought put into his outfit..but it’s the way he keeps glancing surreptitiously at Jiyong through the mirror behind the bar. He’ll be easy to sway he thinks, pulling his lip between his teeth and watching as the youngest catches the movement in the mirror and squirms. He holds in his grin of triumph, affects a look of silent commiseration, and meets the man’s eyes through the glass, tipping his drink up in salute before knocking it back. His smirk falls into place, then, as he gets up, throws some cash on the counter, and  _ saunters _ past.

Jiyong is very good at reading people’s actions. He knows how they are going to react once he’s gotten them, but maybe he wasn’t paying enough attention to the oldest. Maybe he had miscalculated, because the youngest one ( _ Seungri, _ his mind supplies easily as he walks past) hasn’t gotten up to follow him; seems to have no inclination to do so. He’d been  _ so sure… _

But the oldest one turns toward him as he’s leaving, just as he’s passing him. “Hey, come sit with us?” he calls, and Jiyong stops, surprised; he knows that voice.

It all kind of clicks as he turns toward him, fluid and attractive, because once his eyes really land on the man  _ (Youngbae) _ he knows him. Knows him deep down in his fake, soul-derived bones. The ache that he’d thought he’d gotten rid of after so many long centuries comes back and this is  _ horrible. _

He comes over casually though, as though his entire world isn’t crashing down around him. As if the heavens hadn’t just opened up and poured down on him with all the most vile things that they could. As if his  _ soulmate _ weren’t sitting directly in front of him.

He licks his lips, noting peripherally that Seungri is watching him, and the other one,  _ Daesung, _ is as well...just a lot less intensely. “I’d love to.” He says, reaching out as if he’s known the man his entire life  _ (God but he  _ has  _ though).  _ He lets it drop on Youngbae’s shoulder, rides out the electric feeling of their connection like the masochist he clearly must be. “However, I must retire for the evening. Raincheck?” His hand drops midway through the sentence because he can only handle so much. He’s smirking, still, and he’s happy for his twisted and practiced manor right now more than he’s ever been happy for anything in his life.

Youngbae looks up at him, and he blinks slow, like he’s trying to place something, but then a smile spreads across his face and he nods. “We’ll be here all week.” he says, and Jiyong had almost forgotten the sound of his voice and it’s another shock to his system that he’s not sure he’s hiding as well as he could be.

The smirk is still there, though, and with a genteel inclination of his head he steps back, throws them a practiced wave of his hand, and turns to go. “Until next time, then.” He says as he walks away.

They’ll look for him again, he knows, and maybe then he’ll be ready.

Part of Jiyong wants to play around with the youngest, knows he’ll be the easiest to manipulate and knows he’ll be his easiest in with the group as a whole. But the other, much more dominant part of him knows that he  _ can’t. _ He won’t be able to now that he knows...now that it’s Youngbae and not just some random attractive human. He can feel a flutter in his chest, like the edges of his frayed soul are trying hard to reconnect and he shakes his head to try and get rid of the feeling.

Playing with Seungri would get Youngbae’s attention, yes. But it would be  _ negative _ attention, and he wants all of the attention that Youngbae gives him to be  _ positive. _

This is a strange sensation all on its own because it’s been many, many hundreds of years since he’s cared which type of attention he received. It’s been since he learned that negative attention from his soulmate was the worst thing in the world. Worse than anything that hell could have offered him. Worse, even, than when he’d lost him in the first place.

Jiyong’s got another suit on, grey with a pattern this time, and he’s added an upside-down cross just under one of his eyes (just small enough that it could be mistaken for a beauty mark from a distance). He has a feeling that they’re all rather  _ religious,  _ and he thinks that’s rather fitting for Youngbae, considering their history.

The bar clears out slowly but steadily when he arrives, and it’s by design. He’s ruined at least three lives in there already, and they stumble out soon after he strolls in. His targets aren’t at the bar when he walks in, but he can feel their presence off in the back at a booth. He sits down at the bar anyway, orders himself a drink, and waits for one of them to come up.

His drink has only just been set before him when he feels Youngbae come up to the bar. He grits his teeth just a little in anticipation, and doesn’t turn until the man has sat down beside him. “Fancy seeing you here.” He says, smooth and suave.

The greeting drags a smile from Youngbae’s lips, who orders first before turning fully to look at him. “You going to come keep us company?” He asks, nodding almost imperceptibly toward the corner they’re seated in. 

Jiyong brings a hand up to his hair, looking into the mirror briefly as if there were even a possibility that something would be off about his appearance. “Since you asked…” he says, and he’s hedging, trying to get Youngbae to insist because it makes him  _ feel. _ It makes him feel wanted and  _ alive. _

Youngbae’s smile quirks up into a grin, and he grabs his drink as it’s set down before him. “Come on.” he says, and Jiyong allows a smile to cross his face, because he’s getting sappy in his old age...or because it was  _ him _ who got that smile on Youngbae’s face. That smile was for  _ him. _

He slides in next to Youngbae in the both, and causes only two minor fights between the people in the tables surrounding them as he does so. He’s not looking for chaos tonight, but he can’t really help himself. They chat idly, and Jiyong wins them all over easily; he’s charming and witty and complimentary. It’s something he’s good at, bringing people up in order to drag them back down just that much more effectively.

He’ll never bring Youngbae down, though.

Or maybe he will. He’s listening to them tell a story, they’d all been there, apparently, and Jiyong’s mind has fallen to what he’s going to do about Youngbae. It’s almost cruel, really, how Youngbae looks and talks exactly like he had so many hundreds of years ago. There’s differences, of course; he’s well off, marginally famous, plenty of friends, and a caring family. He’s just as religious, however, Jiyong notes the cross on a chain around his neck, and the general feeling his soul gives off lets Jiyong know  _ that much. _

He sighs internally, allowing a laugh to fall from his lips at whatever they’ve just said, and keeps thinking. If he could bring Youngbae down to his level, then he could have him forever.

If he let Youngbae raise him up…

“Where are you from?” it's Seungri asking, and he instantly tunes back in, eyes trailing over to him even while his body is still facing Youngbae. 

“Ah, the city.” He says, waving his hand dismissively. They take that as an answer, or, at least, Daesung and Seungri do. Youngbae has a question on the tip of his tongue but Jiyong presses on. “I haven't been home in a while.” He says, and Daesung starts to ask questions. It's good, he thinks, because now he's worried that Youngbae can see through him, at least a little, and he needs his attention diverted from that.

They are asking too many questions for him to really keep thinking about his problem now, so he pushes it to the side, focusing on the conversation. He’s still turned toward Youngbae over an hour later. Everything about his body language practically screaming that he’s  _ most  _ interested in Youngbae, and he tries not to think about how many opportunities that closes for him, because he’s honest enough with himself at this point in his death that he can’t try to tell himself he’s actually disappointed. 

Daesung had noticed first, and it was with a soft smile and a knowing twinkle in his eyes. Seungri took longer, and it’s only as Jiyong makes to leave them at the door just a little while later that that really sinks in; that  _ any of it  _ sinks in. Seungri’s interest backed off slowly then all at once, as though he’d been assessing and then once he’d come to his conclusion it was all over. Daesung had never held any of that type of interest in him, but his reaction had been to direct everything back to Youngbae…

Jiyong agrees, for some reason and without really realizing that he’s doing it, to meet them the next morning for breakfast. He’s too focused on how obvious he’d been, and the fluttering at the edges of his ragged soul catches his attention again. He brings a hand up to his chest as he turns away from them, just a little frustrated with himself for being so obvious and even  _ eager. _

He considers not going the next morning, as he strolls along the street in front of the hotel. He’s not wearing a suit jacket this time, opting just to wear a dark button up shirt with his crisp dress pants. He almost convinces himself not to go into the little restaurant they’d asked him to meet them at, but ends up just being a few minutes late. 

He shouldn’t have come.

The restaurant isn’t very crowded, but it’s just crowded enough that Jiyong has to tilt around the people waiting in front of him to see inside. He doesn’t spot the group of them, and wonders if he’d managed to inconvenience them that morning while he was arguing with himself about coming (read: having a temper tantrum). He’d ruined at least three completely separate people’s lives that morning, so maybe he’d…

Youngbae catches his eye and beckons him in.

Jiyong knows immediately why he hadn’t spotted them before: there is no  _ them. _ It’s just Youngbae, sitting at a table, and far more at ease looking than Jiyong can tell he actually feels. This actually brightens his mood a little; the fact that Youngbae is actually anxious, not that he’s alone ( _ that’s a  _ lie).

“I almost didn’t see you here.” He says as he slides into the seat across from Youngbae. 

Youngbae blushes a little at that, and Jiyong’s eyes light up despite him trying to remain as outwardly unaffected as possible.

“Ah, yeah.” He says, and then pauses, and that’s how Youngbae shows his uncertainty. “Seungri was still asleep and Daesung doesn’t feel well.” He says, and and Jiyong feels the flow of anxious energy as it pours off of Youngbae, while also reveling in Youngbae’s staunch refusal to physically show it.

Jiyong shrugs, graceful and unconcerned. “Their loss, then, I’m a magnificent conversationalist in the mornings.” He says, voice full of charisma and eyes glinting teasingly.

Youngbae laughs softly, tilting his head to the side as he looks at him. “Better than in the evening?” He asks, and Jiyong grins, teeth showing.

“Oh, I don’t know, you’ll have to decide for yourself.”

They’re flirting, and that’s really distracting. Jiyong causes two car accidents (both minor) and at least three small fights during their meal and he can’t even focus on the sense of fulfillment that would normally give him because he’s doing it without thinking. He’s so focused on his banter with Youngbae that it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist and he’s leaning his elbows on the table, body angled forward and he’s clearly focused entirely on Youngbae.

Youngbae’s telling a story, something simple and old, something from his childhood. The story itself doesn’t matter, even though Jiyong will be able to repeat it verbatim if asked, but it’s the way Youngbae is talking, the way that Jiyong can’t help but to hang off of every word that falls from his beautiful mouth. If Youngbae can’t tell that Jiyong is smitten, then he’s even more oblivious than he’d been when they’d first known each other  _ (it’s cute, though, he’d never deny how cute Youngbae can be) _ .

They leave eventually, heading back to the hotel, though they take a meandering route that leads them around and off to the side before bringing them back there. Jiyong feels full; the shattered and rough edges of his soul fluttering and obvious in the back of his mind. He has to beg off when they walk inside, as he doesn’t have a room there, doesn’t have a room  _ anywhere. _ Soon he’s alone again, and he ducks into the bathroom in the lobby and disappears.

When they’d first met, such a very long time ago, Youngbae had been a poor farmer’s son. He’d been strongly built and pious to the bone. Jiyong had been the son of a merchant; much more well-off, much less  _ pious. _ They knew each other because it was a small town and everyone knew everyone. Youngbae had been beautiful then, just as he is now; beautiful and strong and too good for their time and their town.

Jiyong, however, had never been quite as good as Youngbae. He was selfish. He was greedy and needy and he’d wanted Youngbae with a single-minded focus and power that he could not properly express in words….

_ Soulmates. _

They were ‘meant to be’. They were perfect for each other and it had started off as friendship and then it had developed into far more…

He’d ripped his soul into pieces for Youngbae.

He’d dragged himself down into the gutter and ripped himself apart and he’d  _ just wanted _ to save them. He  _ just wanted _ them to be accepted and together just exactly the way they were made to be. But when he’d pulled himself back together, all the pieces a little more rough than before, he’d come back to find that Youngbae couldn’t handle what Jiyong had done to himself for him...for  _ them. _

Jiyong had come back to a town on the verge of ridding itself of the only thing he cared about anymore; and that thing was  _ horrified _ by what Jiyong had become.

The rough edges of his soul feel a little less rough today, Jiyong notes as he stands outside the hotel in simple jeans and a v-neck t-shirt. He looks like sin, he knows because he can hear the whispers all around him, but he feels like heaven. Because there’s something like this chance meeting with Youngbae that feels like destiny. There’s something about the lightening of his soul that he can feel down to the soothed and far less raw edges of it that make him feel like something  _ good _ is going to happen.

“Get in the car, come on.” Daesung says, pushing Jiyong along as their group exits the building and practically collides with him. Jiyong smiles and nods just a little, more like an inclination of his head.

He’s pressed into the car and he’s almost disappointed because he hasn’t heard Youngbae’s voice yet, hasn’t felt his presence. But then Youngbae slides into the seat beside him, turning to look up at him with his half-moon eyes and his bright smile. Jiyong notes, after a moment of being lost in the wave of emotion he feels at Youngbae’s closeness, that they’re alone in the car bar the driver who’s far from listening to them.

“Where are we going?” Jiyong asks, because he’d honestly not expected this when he’d stepped outside that morning, which is a feat and a half to be sure.

Youngbae’s grin fades a little, and Jiyong’s worried that he’s put the wrong look on his face, the wrong emotion. “I feel like I must know you from somewhere.” He murmurs, peering up at Jiyong with an intensity he hasn’t felt since that day that he’d really rather forget ( _ but he can’t and it plays over and over in his mind and it’s what keeps him the way he is) _ . “It feels like I’ve known you forever but I can’t place you...like I’m forgetting something very important.”

Jiyong would probably start crying if he were anything other than just soul-derived flesh, and part of him wishes, so suddenly and so intensely that he could be that  _ more _ for Youngbae. Wishes that he’d known as he’d begun his descent that they’d keep coming back and that maybe eventually they’d be together. Wishes that he’d found him earlier. Wishes that he were  _ human again. _

“I have that kind of face.” He murmurs instead with a shrug, and there  _ is _ emotion there, more than he’d ever thought he was currently capable of. 

Youngbae leans forward in his seat, and it’s like the driver isn’t there even though they’re moving as Youngbae presses his hand to Jiyong’s cheek. “No, no I think it’s more than that, Jiyong.” 

It’s like floodgates. Once Youngbae’s said it he can’t hold it back. It’s like his entire soul is trying to fight its way out of him all at once. They’d never touched like this. Never skin to skin and thank god they’re sitting because with the way Jiyong feels, he’s certain this would have caused a scene in the middle of the hotel bar.

His soul is reaching out and brushing along the edges of Youngbae’s and all of his years of want and longing and desperation come flooding to the forefront. All of the self-loathing, the lies, the cheating and the trickery. Every last horrible thing is brought to the front and thrown at Youngbae’s feet. Every feeling, every terrible deed he’s committed, all laid out for Youngbae. All of it being caressed by the light that is Youngbae’s pure, whole soul.

And the sadness. The deep and impossible depth of Jiyong’s sadness and loneliness because of his lack of Youngbae...the final scene in their tragic romance playing out right before their eyes like some horrible movie and Jiyong  _ is _ crying. There are tears streaming down his face and he’s so unused to it that Youngbae’s thumb brushing the tears away is what alerts him to it in the first place. 

“I’m..I’m crying?” He asks, and Youngbae laughs. Youngbae laughs and Jiyong feels both indignant and horribly, horribly relieved. 

“It looks that way, yeah.” Youngbae says, soft and smiling and he leans forward to press their lips together and  _ God _ but this is torture. It’s the kind of torture that Jiyong would gladly spend a thousand years reliving. Would gladly trade the paltry existence he’d been wandering the earth with for hundreds of years for the exquisite torture of feeling Youngbae’s lips against his; Youngbae’s pure and unbroken soul reaching out and passing light and gentle and  _ healing _ over every jagged and broken part of Jiyong’s own.

And as they drive off to who knows where, hand in hand and talking quietly, Jiyong can’t say for certain if he’ll ever be  _ human _ again...but at this precise moment he’s not certain that that even matters.

 


End file.
